


Project Valentine

by titC



Series: February 2017 - Month of Twu Wuv! [4]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: "Who the hell is Cupid" Valentine's Fic Exchange, Brace yourself, Chloe likes the curls but she hasn’t said anything about the nose, F/M, Fluffy, Gen, I wrote it and yet I didn’t expect them, SO FLUFFY, Trixie has had good teachers in deviousness, What is love, and Lucifer is a big ball of cluelessness and self-doubt at times, and then feels, baby don’t hurt me, but Chloe is no slouch, don’t hurt me, don’t say anything about the nose, it’s called a Roman nose, no more, so many feels, there’s some physics too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 08:28:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9713360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: For the "Who the hell is Cupid" Valentine’s Fic Exchange.Prompt from Grym: Use the English nursery rhyme as inspiration (just as it inspired the cliche poem in so many cards): "The rose is red, the violet's blue, The honey's sweet, and so are you. Thou art my love and I am thine; I drew thee to my Valentine: The lot was cast and then I drew, And Fortune said it shou'd be you."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grym/gifts).



> Wow, I am not a poetry person (or a Valentine person) at all and it was hard to get started, but when I did... Bam words!  
> Hope you like it :-)

“Lucifer!”

She’d grown up, but she was still a little girl in his eyes; especially when she yelled his name and ran to him and – ah, she’d never really grown out of that hugging habit of hers, had she? Pigtails, yes; pink glitter, yes. Hugs, no. He suspected she enjoyed making him cringe. He squirmed out of her arms and did not pat her shoulders at all. “Yes, that’s me. What’s got you in such a state?”

“Look what I got!” She waved a pink envelope in his face and he took a step back to avoid it slapping into his ( _perfectly_ proportioned, thank you very much) nose.

“It’s… a letter?”

“A Valentine! My first Valentine ever!” Well, it must be a particularly momentous occasion, because she was bouncing on her toes still and almost vibrating.

He took it from her when she held it out to him, and after her encouraging nod opened it. “It’s a card? With a – ugh, who wrote this drivel?”

_The rose is red, the violet's blue,_

_The honey's sweet, and so are you._

_Thou art my love and I am thine;_

_I drew thee to my Valentine:_

_The lot was cast and then I drew,_

_And Fortune said it shou'd be you._

“It’s a poem! For me!”

“And it makes you happy? I mean, it states dull facts and then… suggests you were chosen by chance? Not on your own merits?” Aaand her face crumpled. Bloody hell, he’d meant well! “No no no, don’t – look, I’m sure it’s nice, yes? You’re pleased?”

“But… you think Priya doesn’t really like me?”

“I don’t know, how can I know?” Why did Chloe think he could look after the girl while she was on her ladies’ night? Why? “But the poem isn’t very good, is it? Did she write it herself?”

“No, silly. It’s _the_ Valentine poem!”

“Ah. So she had to use it, that’s it?”

She rolled her eyes. “ I can’t believe you’re mom’s boyfriend.” Well, he couldn’t either sometimes. “Don’t you do anything for Valentine’s Day?”

“Anything like what?” It was just a way to get a quick hook-up for the night and dressing it up with sweets and alcohol, right? Not like what the Detective and he were doing.

“Like, I don’t know. When I was little, dad would take mom to a good restaurant and he would get her flowers and stuff like that.”

“But… can’t you do that the rest of the time?” Had he been doing it wrong for all those years? ( _Years!_ He felt gleeful that it had already been years; but then the idea he might have bollocksed things up brought him back down from his high.) Even worse: had the douche been doing it _better_?

“I guess so. But it’s supposed to be a special day, to show someone you love them.”

“But… do you think your mother doesn’t know?” 

“Well, did you tell her?”

He definitely did not like that line of questioning.  Countermeasures: launched. “So, ah. What are  _you_ going to do?”

“Um, I have to answer her.”

“Fine then, get to it. Chop chop.” He edged toward the kitchen cupboards.

“Can you help me?”

Of course not. “Do you think I can?” He was very, very close to where Chloe kept her glasses.

“Well, if you’re making tea, make me some too. We can maybe help each other.”

He hadn’t been aiming for the mugs.

 

The little (yes, little; Chloe claimed she hadn’t seen her growing into a teen but she still hardly reached his sternum, so: little) spawn was daintily sipping her Darjeeling while he was contemplating whether he could, or not, escape the sitch he was in. Of course, he could at least congratulate himself for turning her into a tea person; if she’d followed into her parents’ footsteps she’d probably already be addicted to that horrid swill they called coffee. And at least neither Maze nor him had turned her into an alcoholic yet, so there was that: no murder-by-avenging-parent.

“Hey, do you remember when we played teatime with Molly McDowell and Tammy Twinkletoes and you were the king and I was the princess?” Yes he did; and sadly Chloe had proof stuck on the fridge.

“That was a few years ago.”

“It was nice, wasn’t it?” If by nice you meant not being plunged into the old-fashioned fire pits of hell, then yes. “So anyway, we have to… brainstorm. That’s what we do in class.” She rummaged in her school bag and extracted pen and paper, setting it all between them after writing _Project Valentine_ at the top of the page.

He looked at her, and she looked back. “And now?”

“Now, we write down ideas.”

“But… shouldn’t we have two projects then?”

The sly little chip off the certainly not old Detective block smirked at him. “So you want to have a Project Valentine too, then?”

Played again. Bloody hell, she was good. Well, so was her mother; and of course Maze and Satan himself had certainly shown her the way. He sighed; he could certainly accept defeat gracefully. The master outdone by the student. Matter of pride, yes? “Fine.”

“So first, we have two days to plan.”

“Two days?”

“Well yes, Valentine’s Day is on the 14th.”

“So why did you receive your card today, then?”

“Because it will be Sunday. We don’t get mail on Sundays.” She scribbled _Lucifer’s Project Valentine_ on a second piece of paper and handed it to him. “Now, we have to… think, I guess.”

“I’m thinking plenty right now.” As in, what was he doing, why was he doing it, and how did the offspring always get him to do whatever she wanted.

“Yeah, but we have to think of ideas, and write them down. And maybe we can share some.”

“Right. What kind of ideas?”

“ _Romantic_ ideas, Lucifer! Like, a candlelit dinner or her favourite flowers or a nice necklace or, I don’t know! That’s why we’re helping each other!”

Doomed. He was doomed. “But I already do dinners and flowers and – and all of this.” Well, he didn’t do flowers, because they reminded him too much of hospitals and the Detective’s… Anyway.

“Okay, then we have to think of things we don’t do usually.”

“What do you generally do with…” He checked the name on the card. “…Priya?”

“Uh, we have lunch together, and we study together.”

“Are you in the same class?”

“No, she’s a year above.”

“How did you meet, then?”

“We’re both in the soccer team. So we play together, too. She’s the best goalie! Like, she can stop even Jen’s penalties and – ”

“Yes, yes, I get it. Hm. What else does she like then?”

The girl looked forlornly at the poem. “Well, she doesn’t like flowers because she’s allergic, and um, maybe she likes honey?”

“…honey? Is it a proper gift?”

“I don’t know.” She fiddled with the pen in her hand.

“So you can put foo – I mean, soccer, and… food? On your ‘been there done that’ column, I mean?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t look very convinced, but still wrote it down. “What about you?”

“Well, what does your mother like?” Why was she staring at him like she thought he was really, really stupid? “What?”

“You know what she likes. You’ve been together for ages.”

“Only a few short years.” Happy, happy years. The world had never been so bright, really.

“But you’ve given her presents before, yes? And she liked them?” Well, sometimes. “So, what was it? So we know you won’t do the same.”

“All right.” He took a pen from inside his jacket (a heavy, good quality, not purple, not horribly chewed pen, thank you very much) and started a list.

 _Dinner_ (“With candles?” “Yes.” “Aww.”)

 _Flowers_ (in hospitals only, and _never again_ , but he’d done it.)

 _Dancing_. At Lux in the crowd, her smiling wide at his antics because he didn’t care if he looked ridiculous if it made her laugh; just the two of them in his penthouse, swaying to just the sound of cars drifting up to his balcony.

He thought for a minute. _Ankle bracelet._ She always said rings or regular bracelets or necklaces might be a risk of, at best, being torn off her – off of her, she’d say – or being a hazard when on the job; but he’d wanted to give her something that would always be on her skin. It was delicate and light and hardly ever in view except when they went for a walk on the beach, barefoot and carefree; he’d be holding her hand and stealing glances at her ankle to catch a metallic glint and it just made his heart feel too big. He toyed with it when he massaged her feet after a long day, he felt it when she stuck her cold extremities against him at night or when they… The devil didn’t blush, of course. But there was a child with him.

“Well, you’re doing all the right things,” she said. “Hey, have you watched the sunset together? It’s supposed to be romantic too.”

He looked down his (perfect) nose at her, and wrote _Sunsets_ and _Sunrises_ with a flourish. “So I’m good at this thing, is what you’re trying to say?”

“Mommy’s happy with you, so I guess you are.” She poked him in the side after a while. “Hey. Hey, Lucifer. Aren’t you supposed to breathe?”

He blinked and sucked in some air. “Er. Of course. So. You?”

She rolled her eyes at him, so like her mother; and they went on with this brainstorming thing until it was time to whip out the pots and pans and try not to make too much of a mess in the kitchen. A drunk Detective, restrained by a snickering Maze and glaring at him because of the rice that had fallen everywhere on the floor, was amusing only _once_. He’d rather not be banished to the couch if he could avoid it, frankly.

 

Morning afters. Morning afters were particularly hard when you lived with a demon who didn’t know what hangovers were and when you shared your bed with Lucifer Morningstar himself, who wasn’t already dead from alcohol poisoning or a drug overdose only because he wasn’t human. Chloe, on the other hand, was feeling all too human on those mornings when the literal denizens from hell were all chirpy and bright-eyed and – okay, bringing her breakfast in bed with plenty of coffee and fried things and other life-giving things.

“Looks like you had a good time.”

She groaned for dramatic effect, but really she wasn’t feeling as bad as she should have. “Did you make me drink half a gallon of water before bed again?”

“Guilty as charged.” And he looked quite proud of himself, too. Well, at least it helped her headache, if not her bladder. She stumbled to the loo – the _restroom_ , dammit – before crashing back onto the bed as he held the breakfast tray away from any potentially flailing limb.

“Sit with me?”

He settled next to her with a happy grin, nosing her horribly tangled hair away to kiss her cheekbone. “Coffee first?”

“Mm,” she answered. He let her list against him, and she cradled her coffee in her hands as he cradled her in his arms, both very precious in that very moment – warm and reliable and everything she needed in that particular point in time.

“Maze is away bounty hunting today, and I have an errand to run for the spawn. Her father picked her up this morning. Can I get you anything while I’m out and about?”

She shook her head. A nice hot bath maybe, pampering herself, enjoying the blessed quiet. Painting her nails and perhaps reading a book if she was feeling adventurous. “Nah, m’fine.” He fiddled with a bit of shredded toast on the tray. “What is it, Lucifer?”

“Would you… ah…” She elbowed him, taking care not to jostle her second coffee; and he widened his eyes at her. “Detective! Why such violence? I’m only asking if you want to come to Lux tonight!”

“See? Not so hard.” He looked down at his mangled toast. “Isn’t it going to be a Valentine’s Day special?”

“Er, yes?”

“Lucifer. I thought your idea of Valentine’s at Lux was even more debauchery than usual, except with the strippers dressed as Cupids.”

“But maybe I could do it differently this time?”

“You’re not going to change all your plans for tonight.”

“But… I’d like you to be there. If you want to.”

“You’re not going to serenade me or anything, are you? Lucifer?” He looked vaguely guilty. “You’re not, right?”

“It’s just… what do you want? What would make you happy?”

Oh please, not a satanic breakdown so early in the morning – well, it was 11, but the night had been short. She kissed him on the tip of his nose. “I don’t need anything more than what I already have.”

“I didn’t ask what you needed.” Sulky devil pout. Great.

“I mean it. I don’t need or want anything else from you than what you already give me.” He took her empty mug from her hand and put it on the floor next to the tray, and then buried his long nose in her neck. She probably still smelled like her wild night, but he didn’t seem to mind – well, who was she kidding. Lucifer Morningstar had invented wild nights. “You always have my back, and Trixie adores you, and you bring me breakfast in bed.” I just wished you were a bit more confident sometimes, for both our sakes. “What is it really about? Is there something _you_ actually want?”

She felt him shake his head, his perennial stubble scraping lightly against her naked shoulder. It made her shudder, in a good way. “I’ll miss you then tonight. Unless I skip Lux.”

“Don’t. You love it.”

“Love you more.” He’d done it again; unwittingly declared his feelings and turning her all melty inside. Another Morningstar specialty.

“Let’s just stick to the plan, all right? I’ll wait for you up in the penthouse. I don’t need two crazy nights in a row, I’m almost forty.” Like it or not.

His arms tightened around her for a second or two before he let her go. “Your wish is my command, then.”

“Yes it is.” She evaded his crooked fingers by crawling to the other side of the bed when he tried to tickle her, her hangover forgotten in laughter. “Join me in the shower?” As if she needed to ask.

 

Still feeling all soft and mellow, Chloe walked down the stairs and considered what movie she could indulge in while her polish dried. She almost stumbled on Trixie’s schoolbag, haphazardly thrown near the bottom of the stairs as it often was. As she righted it, she saw some papers had been halfway shoved in. She was about to shove them down further in when she noticed they bore Lucifer’s handwriting and – no, she shouldn’t peek; it wasn’t meant for her. Even if her name was written there and okay, fine, she’d take a look. After all the rule was, if in the common area it’s all fair game. Next to Trixie’s door but not in her room was still the common area, right?

It didn’t take her long to get the gist of it, and she did a double take when her eyes skimmed down Lucifer’s list. Trixie had doodled little thumb-ups and happy faces next to many items, and then there was the part they’d clearly collaborated on. _Sing her a song in public_. A question mark next to it. Well, it explained this morning’s weirdness. _Get her nice honey_ – he’d struck that one out. _Chocolates?_ Her suggestion again. _Maze would find them and eat them all._ She did have a sweet tooth, true. _A day in a spa_ , in his handwriting – _boring_ , she’d commented. _Breakfast in bed_ , she’d added. _I do that anyway_. Yes he did.

It looked that the papers had gone back and forth between them, because Trixie’s was a mirror image of the first. _Lunch together_ , _soccer team_ , _study time_ – all were ticked. _Cinema? Going to a match together? Planetarium?_ She’d drawn unsure smiley faces next to the first two, another with raised eyebrows for the third. Lucifer’s list had a tea ring on it, and he’d drawn a little frowning devil face side-eyeing it. He hated tea (or coffee) rings.

Chloe slid the papers back into the schoolbag and left it in Trixie’s room, and started thinking.

She had some planning to do.

 

The evening was almost there, and he felt quite proud of himself. Autographed football for the spawn’s Valentine: check. Conspiring with the Douche and Priya’s parents to take the girls to the observatory at night for a special show: check. Manly backslapping at their cleverness: check. Tugging his Prada jacket back into place afterwards: check. Popping by the good doctor’s office to pester her about Valentine’s day: check (and for once she didn’t even sigh or frown at him because he was a good devil and listened to her advice and _even_ asked what she meant by “don’t try to be who you think she wants this time.”)

He drove back to Lux, a few bags on the seat next to him – the necessities for Valentine’s day, he’d gathered. He placed them strategically around the penthouse before going down to the club and entertaining the crowd there. Chloe had been right, he loved it; but all the while still his thoughts were on her. Every song was for her, every drink a toast in her honour, every dance was with her. He didn’t see anyone else in all these nameless faces. He heard her laugh in every laugh, felt her touch in every body that brushed past him.

It was early still in the night, but someone was waiting for him up there, and he didn’t want to linger down here anymore. He squeezed through to the lift and shook his shoulders free from The Lucifer Morningstar. He could just _be_ now, whatever that meant. He only knew he didn’t have to be Satan, he didn’t have to be Sex on Legs Club Owner. Not a fallen angel, not a punisher, not the partner to a detective – _the_ Detective. Not _his_ , because she didn’t belong to him – not like he belonged to her. He had no constraints in his life on earth, after all; but she’d never let herself be only his, not with her daughter and her sense of duty and… the lift doors opened.

“Hi,” she said from the piano bench.

“Chloe,” he only answered. He rarely used her name, he didn’t want to diminish its… holiness, maybe. And each time, she smiled at him and the sun was rising. He sat next to her, smiling at the way her smaller body fit under his arm, against his side. “Trying to remember your old music lessons?”

She shook her head with a little laugh. “I found the chocolates on the bar.”

“Good.”

“And the sunflowers on the balcony.”

“Mm.” He toyed with a strand of her hair.

And the blue scarf on the bed.”

“It’s the colour of your eyes.”

“I don’t need presents, you know. Just you.”

He spread his free arm out. “Well, I’m yours, darling.”

“I know.” He rested his fingers on the keys, twitching as if looking for a song to play. “As I am yours.”

“Well, no; you’re also the offspring’s and you’re dedicated to your job and…” His voice petered out when she put a finger over his lips.

“Lucifer. I am entirely hers, and I am entirely yours. The one doesn’t take away from the other. Do you understand?” He blinked at her. Did he? “Love is not finite. A partner’s love, a parent’s love… they don’t cancel each other out.” No, he didn’t understand what she aimed at. He only loved her, he only had eyes for her; and whatever she was willing to give him he’d fight tooth and nail to keep and treasure. “You love Amenadiel.”

“But… it’s not the same! And anyway he’s an oaf.” What was she aiming at?

“I just mean… you don’t realize it, do you? You don’t see it in yourself. You don’t see it for you.”

“Detective…”

“Did you know that Trixie wrote an essay about you for school, about who she looked up to the most outside of her parents? She didn’t tell you anything so you wouldn’t freak out.”

As if! “Well I’m much taller and…” The finger went back on his lips.

“Did you know that Linda never fixed the hole you punched in her drywall because it reminds her to always have faith in her patients?”

What? No, no, that wouldn’t do. “I’ll send workers to…” The finger again.

She took a deep breath. “It’s just… Do you know that sometimes your eyes turn gold, when you look at me?” No they didn’t. They hadn’t in… quite a while. They wouldn’t ever again. “I asked your brother about it. He gave me this,” she showed him a lump of the darkest coal in her palm, staining her skin with its blacker-than-black dust. “He said you’d know what do do. He called you another name.”

He shook his head, wordless. No. No. But she stood up and tugged on his hand and he followed her outside, because what else could he do? She was still holding the lump in her other hand, and she looked up into the sky before turning back to him.

“You’re shaking, Lucifer. Sit down.”

He wasn’t. He wasn’t, he was fine, and she looked… unhappy, something was wrong, and oh, he was bungling it, wasn’t he? Was she about do, dump him? Had it all finally sunk in? Had she finally realized that she deserved more, more than a fool and a monster? Or – did she have bad news? Why was she looking at him like that? The spawn had said, just tell her; the doctor had said, just be yourself. But what did that mean? What was he supposed to do? “I… I don’t…”

“I know.” She leaned into him and took his fist, unfolded it gently. “You made the stars, didn’t you? You made the stars, and the stars made carbon. Carbon made life.” She put the lump of coal in his hand and wrapped his fingers around it.

He didn’t understand. Carbon – pencils and diamonds and fire and, and what? He needed air, he needed oxygen; his lungs were not working properly and her eyes were luminous, reflecting the light from… from… from what? She brushed her thumb under his eye, and something glinted on her finger when she took it away.

“See? You did it.” The light was coming from her smile, he was sure of it; but where was her smile coming from?

“What…”

“Look, Lucifer. Look into your hand.” A tiny star was shining there, bright and beautiful. “You did it.”

But her smile was brighter still and it lit an entire universe inside of him, forever expanding.

 

They didn’t see the shooting star that illuminated the sky over their heads that night, but Amenadiel did; and he toasted the heavens.


End file.
